


something to wish for

by captainsarmband



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10082405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainsarmband/pseuds/captainsarmband
Summary: “You know I can feel you staring at me, right?” Marc says, not looking up from the book he’s brooding over and scribbling something down on his notepad.“Does it make you read faster?”“No.”-Sometimes you need a friend to make that deadline for your last-minute assignment. And sometimes you need more than that.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neyvenger (jjjat3am)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/gifts).



> For Julija, who is brilliant and hopefully enjoys this at least half as much as I enjoy her writing. Happy Birthday ♥

 

 

He finds Marc in the History Department of the library, his usual spot because he likes the view and apparently the books smell nicer or so he says. A stack of books is piled neatly before him, his hand is buried in his hair, as he flips the page and adds a sticky note to the top.

 

“Do you have minute?” The chair squeaks as Ter drops down on it and it earns him a handful of resentful glares from the other students. Exam season has everyone that little bit more on edge than usual, so he bites down an irritated comment and mouths ‘sorry’ to no one in particular.

 

Marc disentangles his hand from his hair and holds up his index finger, silently urging Ter to wait until he has finished the paragraph. Or the chapter. Or the book. All Ter knows is that it’s taking him forever and he doesn’t have that kind of time. He bounces his knee under the table and lets his eyes wander over the heads of the other students, but they always land on Marc again, whose lips move while he reads, a habit he only sports when reading complex German texts that test his knowledge of the language.

 

“You know I can feel you staring at me, right?” Marc says, not looking up from the book he’s brooding over and scribbling something down on his notepad.

 

“Does it make you read faster?”

 

“No.”

 

Ter sighs and checks his phone. It’s 3.34. He can still do this.

 

After an unfathomably long amount of time (it’s 3.38 by then, his phone must be broken), Marc finally closes the book and puts his three different-coloured markers aside.

 

“Okay,” he says and smiles at Ter, not a hint of stress or irritation visible in his features. Ter has always admired how he so easily switched his focus, concentrating on one thing after the other, always giving every task before and every person around him his full attention. “What’s up?”

 

“Okay so,” Ter begins and leans forward on his elbows, “You know how we had this assignment in Media Technique II?”

 

“The interview clip?” Marc nods slowly. “Sure, it’s what I borrowed your tripod for. Is there anything wrong with it? I swear, I handled it carefully, I-”

 

“No, no!” Marc interrupts, vehemently enough to be penalised with a hiss from two girls at the other end of the table. “It’s nothing like that,” he says, voice lowered, “it’s just that I kind of forgot to do it.”

 

Marc’s eyes widen in shock. “But it’s due tomorrow!”

 

“Yeah, I figured, which is why I need your help.” Ter bites his lip and musters Marc’s face for any hint of an answer.

 

Marc’s eyes fly to the stack of books before him, back to his notepad, back to Ter. “I can bring my camera and handle the sound. Where do you need me?”

 

Ter sighs and allows himself a relieved smile. “In front of the camera, actually.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I can manage with the equipment, I’m just really lacking an interview partner.”

 

Marc shakes his head and holds up his hands in defense. “Yeah, no, that’s not me.”

 

“Marc, come on, I’m desperate.”

 

“What would you even ask me about?”

 

“I’ve already thought that through!” Ter sits up a little straighter, this part he is prepared for. “It will be about your life as an international student, how you have adapted and where there are still obstacles. There’s nothing to research or anything, just your personal experience.”

 

Marc’s tongue flicks over his bottom lip and he stares out of the window in contemplation. “What if I say something stupid?”

 

Ter’s eyebrows shoot up and he is lost for words for a moment. He has known Marc for about a year, ever since he started his master’s degree and they met during the introductory days. He was still self-conscious about his German then, talking slowly but determined to get his point across, even while helping Ter get through their first informatics exam. (They celebrated Ter’s passing grade as if it were a summa cum laude. Marc never mentioned his own, until Ter literally wrestled the paper from him and found it was an A. He wasn’t surprised then, and he wasn’t surprised by any that followed.)

 

“That’s impossible.”

 

Marc turns his face back to him and a soft mixture of surprise and delight forms a smile in the corner of his mouth.

 

“ _Por favor_?” It’s the last resort Ter has.

 

Marc groans, cranes his head to look at the ceiling and Ter hopes there’s something supportive written on it.

 

“Okay,” he says finally, “let’s get this over with.”

 

“Yes!” Ter shouts and pumps his hand in the air. Against the embarrassed blush and involuntary laugh on Marc’s face, the indignant curses directed at him seem meaningless.

 

*

 

“Okay, are you ready?”

 

“Do I look okay?”

 

Ter looks up from where he’s making a final adjustment to the lighting. Marc’s features appear more prominent in the artificial light. The sharp cut of his cheekbones, the soft curve of his mouth, but what makes Ter stop in his tracks is the way his eyes shine even brighter than usual under his dark eyelashes.

 

“Perfect. I mean, it’s fine.” Ter clears his throat and moves to stand beside the camera. “Could you turn toward me a little?”

 

“Sure.” Marc turns in his seat, sits a little straighter and watches Ter expectantly. “This okay?”

 

“Yes, just, you have- can I-” Ter takes a step forward and reaches out to brush a stray hair from Marc’s forehead. “Sorry, I don’t mean to make a fuss.”

 

“No, it’s fine. It’s your assignment.” Marc smiles at him and raises his hand to reassuringly pat Ter’s arm that is still uselessly hanging between them.

 

“Okay.” Ter smiles back at him, moves back to the camera and presses the record button. “Can you start by telling me a little about yourself?”

 

“De acuerdo.” Marc nods. “My name is Marc Bartra Aregall, I’m 26 years old and I’m from Sant Jaume dels Domenys.”

 

“That’s in Spain?”

 

Marc throws him an indignant look. “That’s in Catalunya.”

 

“Right, sorry,” Ter grins. “When did you come here?”

 

“I came to Germany last summer for my master’s degree in media science.” Marc talks about his first weeks in a new country, the challenges of the language, the first and last time he tried Sauerkraut (Ter remembers that incident particularly well and has to bite his lips to keep himself from laughing, while Marc scrunches up his nose at the memory) while the nervous fidgeting of his fingers turns into animated gestures. Ter’s questions merely serve as cues as Marc tells him quirky anecdotes, some that he already knows, some that he doesn’t, and his eyes only leave Marc’s to occasionally check the camera’s settings.

 

“Do you miss home?” He asks later on and Marc bites his lip.

 

“Every day,” he replies quietly and averts his eyes.

 

Ter swallows and pauses for a moment before he says, “Sorry, could you-”

 

“Oh, I should say that as a full sentence, right? I’m sorry.”

 

“Yeah, no, it’s fine, just-”

 

“No, I know, I know.” Marc breathes deeply and the way Ter can watch him steel himself before the answer makes him want to shield the other boy in his arms.

 

Marc runs a hand over his face and turns back to look at Ter. “I miss home every day. I miss my family and my city and arròs amb conill.”

 

“You never told me.”

 

Marc shrugs. “It’s just normal, no? I never wanted you to feel bad about that.”

 

“And you just deal with it?”

 

Marc’s lips break into a smile. “I have really nice friends. They make everything easier. And if I went back home now, I would miss them just as much.” He looks to the floor for a moment before he raises his eyes back at Ter, an expression on his face that he can’t quite read. “There are always people that find their way into your heart, I guess. And then it’s hard to leave them behind.”

 

Ter opens his mouth to say something, but instead ducks his head to hide the blush creeping up his neck. “So,” he says after a moment. “Is there anything you wish for?”

 

“For you to ask anything but a yes-no question maybe. Did you pay attention in class at all?” Marc laughs but waves his hand in a just-kidding-motion. “What do you mean _wish for_?”

 

“I don’t know.” Ter shrugs and fixes his eyes on the camera. “Academic success? A house by the sea? Love?”

 

“Love,” Marc echoes and there is wonder in his voice, “Well, there-”

 

A knock on the door interrupts him and Ter swivels around. When he opens the door, he is greeted by the vaguely familiar face of a fellow student.

 

“I’m sorry, are you done soon?” Simon or Steven or Sven? asks and gestures into the room, “I booked the room for six o’clock and it’s ten past already and-”

 

Ter glances at his watch before he says, “Shit, sorry, you’re right. Let me just pack up.”

 

When he walks back into the room, Marc watches him intently. “Do you think you can work with that?”

 

“Yes,” Ter says and start to gather his equipment. “You were great.”

 

“Okay,” Marc smiles and moves to help him. They reach out for the camera bag at the same time and their fingers brush. Ter halts and so does Marc and they just stand there, connected by their fingertips and Ter momentarily forgets how to breathe.

 

Until someone says “Do you need help?” and they both remember that there is a third person in the room. Or anywhere at all.

 

*

 

The university floors are quiet as Ter unlocks the editing room and the turn of the lock echoes in the empty corridor. He drops onto the cushioned chair with a sigh, disappointed by his vain coffee run. The cafeteria is closed already and the vending machine on second floor just spat his coins right back at him as usual.

 

He yawns into the stale air of the room and opens the editing file again. Marc appears on his screen, eyes bright, smile brighter, and Ter smiles through his fatigue.

 

He has already managed to sort most of the material and edited half of it. Transcriptions be damned.

 

“I would love to work in animations,” Marc says on the screen and his features soften, “Explain the world to children through bright colours and loveable characters, you know? And have them explain the world right back to me.”

 

A warm feeling spreads through Ter’s chest at the thought of it. He shakes his head to regain his focus and goes back to work. It’s not much later that a soft knock tears him out of it again.

 

“Door’s open!” He calls and turns his head expectantly.

 

“A little help here?” comes a familiar voice from the other side and Ter jumps up to open the door.

 

He finds himself face to face with Marc, holding two paper cups in his hands. It’s strange to see his face now, after having studied it for hours, tracking his every expression, the intensity of his eyes, the movement of his lips.

 

“Coffee?” Marc asks and smiles and it’s not strange anymore.

 

“You are an angel,” Ter breathes and takes one of the cups from him.

 

“So I’ve been told,” Marc laughs and touches his upper arm with his free hand. “How are we doing here?”

 

“We’re progressing.” Ter steps back to let Marc in, who sits down on the free table by the wall and shrugs his jacket off his shoulders. “How did you know I was here?”

 

“You didn’t pick up your phone, so I went by your dorm and asked your roommate. He said you hadn’t come home yet, so I figured you were here.”

 

Ter imagines Marc calling him, going by his flat, standing on his doorstep and asking for him. Buying him coffee, not as an afterthought, but particularly for him. And somehow, with everything he knows about Marc, with every act of kindness he has witnessed from him, he isn’t even surprised.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Of course.” Marc just shrugs and smiles softly. “How come you are so late with this anyway? You’re usually the first to hand a project in.”

 

“Yeah, now you’re projecting.”

 

“And you’re changing the subject.”

 

Ter sighs and sits down on the chair facing Marc. “I just forgot. I’ve been doing double-shifts at the diner and I have this Spanish exam coming up and it slipped my mind.”

 

“Why are you doing double-shifts?” Marc’s voice is laced with worry and he gently nudges Ter’s shin with his foot to make him look up. “Do you have any money trouble?”

 

“No, nothing like that.” Ter moves his foot to press against Marc’s. In a gesture of reassurance. Or gratitude. Or something he can’t quite name. “I’m just saving.”

 

“Saving?” Marc’s eyebrows shoot up with curiosity. “What for?”

 

“I want to go to Barcelona over the summer break,” Ter says and there is a shyness in his voice that he can’t explain. As if there was something intimate in visiting the city. He clears his throat. “It sounded beautiful when you talked about it.”

 

Marc blinks and for a second Ter thinks he sees him frown, but then a smile lights up his face again. “I’m sure you will love it! I can make you a list of places to eat and the museums worth a visit.”

 

“Yeah, that’s- that would be great, I-” Ter’s voice falters and he wants to slap himself for it. “I just thought you could show me in person? Because I figured you’d be there anyway, but if you have other things-”

 

“Oh!” Marc interrupts him, “No, no, no, I’d love to!”

 

“You would?”

 

“Of course!” Marc puts his already forgotten cup to the side and ticks off his plans on the fingers of one hand, “First we’re going to see Camp Nou. I’m not sure if we can get tickets, but my brother works there as a volunteer, so maybe he can arrange something. But we’re at least doing a stadium tour, I’m sorry but your Borussia-Park has nothing on it. And then we’re going up Montjuïc. You can see the city lights up there at night and there’s this beautiful play of water and-”

 

Maybe it’s because he’s been watching him all day, the change of moods on his face, the way he wears his heart on his tongue, the sincerity behind each of his gestures. And maybe it’s because he has wanted to do this all along. Frankly Ter doesn’t care why, when he pushes himself up from the chair to stand before Marc and brushes a hand over his cheek.

 

“Another stray hair?” Marc asks, half-joking, as his eyes search Ter’s face.

 

“No,” Ter shakes his head, “all perfect.” He leans forward until he can feel Marc’s breath on his lips and is tempted to count the dark lashes fluttering closed. “Is this okay?”

 

Marc swallows and tips his head up to touch Ter’s nose with his. “Yes.”

 

Ter tilts his head, brushes his cheek against Marc’s, placing fleeting kisses to his cheekbone, his jaw, the corner of his mouth, before Marc cups his face with this hands and kisses his lips. Ter steadies himself with his hands on Marc’s thighs and Marc pulls him closer with his legs. And his mind is cloudy with how unreal it feels but so very true at the same time.

 

When they pull away, they stare at each other and Ter is fascinated by the blush on Marc’s cheek.

 

“You know I can help you with your Spanish exam, right?” Marc says suddenly and Ter blinks.

 

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about just now?”

 

“No! I just- I just thought-” Marc starts laughing and it’s contagious and Ter lets his forehead drop on Marc’s heaving shoulders. “It just came to mind. I thought maybe you were just afraid to ask.”

 

“Oh right,” Ter lifts his head again to face him, “you think I’m brave enough to kiss you, but asking you for Spanish tutoring is where I draw the line?”

 

Marc shrugs, “I mean, it wasn’t _that_ brave.”

 

“Come again?”

 

“I mean, there wasn’t a lot of risk involved, you already knew that-” Marc stops himself and frowns. “You did watch the whole recording, right?”

 

“What does that have to do with- yeah, I mean, not _everything_ , but almost to the end.”

 

“Okay,” Marc says and glances at his watch, “You have a deadline, you better get to work. You’ve never taken so long editing a five-minute-clip.”

 

“Well, I’ve never had a subject looking like you. It’s distracting.”

 

Marc laughs and runs his hand through Ter’s hair before he puts on his jacket.

 

“Are you just going to leave now?”

 

“I just came to bring you coffee.” Marc places a kiss to the tip of nose, claps his shoulder, and gently pushes past him to the door. “Call me when you’re done.”

 

Ter stares after him in disbelief as Marc closes the door behind him, frowns, and sits down in front of the computer.

 

He moves the timeline to the end to watch the last minutes of the recording.

 

“What do you mean _wish for_?” Marc asks and seeing his face now, seeing his lips move with the knowledge of how they feel against his own makes Ter’s heart beat faster.

 

“I don’t know,” says his own voice off-screen. “Academic success? A house by the sea? Love?”

 

“Love. Well, there-” There’s a noise which Ter knows to be a knock on the door and himself moving to answer it. Marc looks after him, with something in his gaze that Ter doesn’t dare to describe as _longing,_ but also can’t quite find another word for.

 

Then Marc drops his head, a small smile playing on his lips, before he says, “Well, there’s you.”

 

Ter stares at the screen, waiting for his heart to stop racing, but the screen turns to black and it’s still thumping wildly in his chest.

 

He reaches for his phone to send Marc a message.

 

_can you come back?_

 

Only seconds later a reply pops up on his display. _are you done?_

 

_maybe i don’t need the class_

 

_Yes, you do._

 

Ter sighs and lets his eyes roam across the room that seems so terribly unspectacular now. His glance lands on the paper cup Marc left behind.

 

_i have coffee_

 

_once you’re done, you come over and get a fresh cup. anything else you need?_

 

 _well,_ Ter types and bites his lip before he adds the rest of the text. _there’s you._

 

_:)_

 

Ter has to forcefully tear his stare away from the smiley face and put the phone down. He thinks about Marc, brewing coffee for him, sending smiley faces between the careful placement of sticky notes in ancient books, and then he gets to work. He has never edited a five-minute-clip so fast in his life.

 

 

  
  



End file.
